


Nurturing

by CinderWildcat



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Domestic Violence, Gen, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-07-10 13:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderWildcat/pseuds/CinderWildcat
Summary: The backstory of Frederick Arthur - and some insight as to how he became so jaw-droppingly cruel.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur is a character that didn't grab my interest until just before the anime aired, and I wrote this backstory to try and answer some question I've had about him for a while - how did he become who we see in Banana Fish, was he always like this, was he abused, etc. Hopefully as a Banana Fish fan you'll give this story a chance (even if, understandably so, you hate Arthur).  
> This story is meant to take place within the 80's Banana Fish canon, not modern Banana Fish canon. So if any anime-only fans read this and go "wait, gay Arthur, where did you get that idea," it's from some lines in the manga that got cut from the anime.

_1964_

 

"Mother, please! Just-- please reconsider!"

  
"I said no.”

  
Karolina let out a long sigh. They'd been over this before, but her mother's tone more than her words stung. The silence and the chill in the kitchen surrounded her.  
"I know I was… impulsive--" a snort of derision from the other end of the line, "--but he's your grandson! Even if you won't have anything to do with me, you could at least give him the time of day."

  
"Do you not understand what we've had to deal with because of you," spat her mother. "Everyone at our church whispering about us, accusing us of letting you stray. Even the neighbors who still talk to us have been distant and condescending. The Henley's won't even acknowledge us anymore! And your father...." Even as she braced herself for it - her mother’s classic guilt trip maneuver - Karolina still felt remorse weighing down on her. "His only daughter, and not even a white wedding... It was bad enough you had to fall for that Arthur character but this…"

  
The silence was broken after only a few seconds by the cheerful gurgling of a baby. Karolina glanced over to her right, looking at her son beaming at her from his play pen. His little fingers clutched at the wooden bars separating him and his mother. He stared at her with wide eyes, a goofy, open-mouthed smile on his face. A pang of both love and guilt ran through Karolina. She audibly gulped, fighting back both the anger and the tears she wanted to release, and turned her attention back to her mother. "So that's just it then," She tried to remain defiant and proud, but her voice trembled. "You're just not even going to pretend he's part of the family."

  
"Don't act like this is all our fault," her mother said softly, using that condescending, false comforting tone Karolina came to loathe. "You brought this upon yourself."

Karolina bristled, but bit her tongue lest she say something she regret. _Don't make this worse_ , she reminded herself. Though she knew at this point the damage was irreversible.

"Well. I'm sorry you feel that way."

"I'll be praying for you."

  
The sharp _clang_ of the receiver slammed onto it's base echoed through the now quiet home. Karolina could feel the beginnings of an aching sob forming in her chest and crawling into her throat, but she managed to swallow it back. Stephen would be home soon.

She looked back over at the play pen. At the moment her son had stopped gurgling, and was just staring at her blankly, mouth agape. The more she looked at him, the more Karolina could feel her anger ebbing away, though the sadness still stuck with her. Her family may have abandoned her, but that didn't matter, she reminded herself - she had her own family to look out for now.

_I'll be praying for you._

Those words echoed in her head and left a sudden nasty, sick feeling in her stomach - a combination of guilt and panic, familiar all-to-well to karoKaro from her childhood, her as the little girl trying to look brave but feeling sick to her stomach before Confession. Karolina heaved a sigh and forced herself to focus back on her son.

Karolina walked over to the play pen and scooped him up in her arms, holding him as close as she could to her heart. She needed the warmth to comfort her. He giggled and squirmed at the warm contact, but soon settled down as Karolina cradled him closer to her chest. Stroking his fine blonde hair, listening to him cooing, holding him in her arms - slowly, ever so slowly, the pain left her. The church, her parents and the neighbors didn't matter. It became a mantra in her head. The guilty panicked feeling had diminished to a point but Karolina felt it still lurking. She forced herself to focus instead on the child cradled in her arms. Karolina left a gentle kiss on her baby's forehead and gazed into his still wide blue eyes.

"No matter what," she cooed, almost in a whisper. "I'll love you. I love you, my beautiful baby boy."

He smiled up at her, and she felt like crying.

"My sweet little Frederick".


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into a young Arthur's homelife.  
> WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of domestic violence and coarse language. Reader discretion is advised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated in the summary, this chapter contains scenes of domestic violence and child abuse. Please be aware of this going forward. If you really cannot stomach scenes like this, but want to continue with this fic, please see the notes at the end of this chapter for more information, though I will say if domestic violence upsets you, it may be a good time to drop this story - this won't be the only chapter that mentions it.

_1969_

 

Though the sun shone brightly, spreading light throughout the small, pristine house, the wind outside whistled, and added a biting chill that was unusual for late May.

Inside, Karolina busied herself as best she could, taking care of last-minute chores around the sunny bungalow. The house was spotless, but she needed to keep herself occupied. Distracted. She started to become obsessed with fixing even the tiniest issues – adjusting the table cloth so it was perfectly, evenly spread across the table, fluffing pillows and straightening picture frames. Anything to keep her mind occupied.

“Man down, man down! We’re the only ones left!”

Her focus was ruined by the sound of her son Frederick playing in the living room. By this point it was probably the third time she’d found herself distracted by him. She glanced over her shoulder to see him laying on his belly in front of a mass of toy soldiers, some knocked down in mock-death, others aiming their weapons at each other, while Frederick oversaw everything, calling out orders to his imaginary army that he’d heard from some of the shows he knew his daddy watched on the television. At this point, nearly all his “men” were down, and only four toy soldiers were left. Frederick lay on his belly, holding two of the remaining soldiers close to his face, moving them up and down to fit his narration.

“What do we do, what do we do?!” one soldier “said” in a panicked voice.

“Now listen to me,” Frederick had the other say, trying to make his voice as deep as possible. Trying to sound like his daddy. “All of you gotta do as I say, okay? We’re going to go up that hill—” he gestured towards the blue armchair next to him, “—and then we’re gonna POUNCE on them from overtop!”

“Whaaaaaat?!” He made the second soldier jump up and down in excitement and surprise. “Are you sure that will work?”

“Yes! I’m in charge, so it will!”

Frederick’s army cheered at his brilliance.

For a moment Karolina felt herself relax, smile, enjoy this moment of reprieve with her son. But seeing the scattered toys on the floor drew her out of her state of comfort. She tensed, eyed the door, and moved swiftly to her son.

“Freddie, honey,” she said, crouching among the mess. Frederick looked up with bright teal eyes, confused why his mom would interrupt his private war.

“Yes, mommy?”

“Daddy’s going to be here any moment, and it’ll make him very happy to see you’ve put away all your toys before dinner, okay?”

Frederick’s chubby face scrunched up into a pout. “But we were gonna go up that big blue hill a-and---.”

“I know, I know honey,” said Karolina, gently ruffling Frederick’s messy blond hair. “But you know what daddy’s going to think if you leave the soldiers here on his nice chair, right?”

Frederick’s gaze fell to the floor. “Daddy was in a good mood when he left,” he grumbled.

“Frederick!”

His head snapped up at the sound of the sharpness in his mother’s voice. Even she looked shocked at her tone. Closing her eyes, Karolina sighed heavily and looked back at her son, trying too look as calm as possible. Trying to convince herself to stay calm. “Freddy, sweetie, look at me. Please. Please put your toys away. Now.”

Frederick met his mother’s gaze and stared, trying to tell if she was still mad at him. She didn’t look mad, but he didn’t want her to start yelling again. Reluctantly, he pushed himself up and scooped up all his fallen troops before wadding towards his room, occasionally stooping to pick up ones that had fallen from his arms. With another sigh, Karolina went back to the dining room to finish wiping down the table for what was probably the fourth time.

 

Frederick held his troops close to his chest as he plopped down onto the floor of his bedroom. Gently, he let them fall to the floor, trying to place them the way they were back in the living room. He pouted the whole time. _Stupid,_ he thought. Another soldier fell to the ground, a little harder than intended. _Why does daddy have to get mad. I wasn’t doing anything._ He continued to place his troops, almost slamming them against the hardwood floor. _He doesn’t have to be so MEAN!_

He dropped the rest of the soldiers onto the floor, letting them scatter all over the floor. At hearing the sharp _plunking_ sounds of plastic hitting hardwood, he panicked. He placed them all upright, gently now, patting them reassuringly and looking to make sure none of them broke. They were a gift from his father – he didn’t want them getting ruined. 

Frederick counted all of them as the lined them up just so. He thought he had ten of them…. was one missing? Or did he miscount? Counting was hard.

Frederick’s attention was dragged away by the sound of the door opening.

“I’m home! Where’s my little guy at?”

Hearing his father’s jovial voice, Frederick bolted straight from his room to the front door.

“There he is!” his dad announced. Frederick ran right up to next to his dad, head tilted and smiling as he waited for the traditional hair-ruffle. Stephen laughed at his son’s expectant face and beamed down at Frederick.

“Look at you, I think that was record time for you, buddy!” Frederick giggled as he received three very firm pats on the head. His dad loomed over him. “You been busy? Keeping out of mommy’s way?”

“Yes yes” said Frederick immediately. Stephen smiled and pinched his son’s cheek, getting another giggle out of Frederick. He grinned at his father – tall, strong, energetic, and at the moment, quite happy. Stephen kicked his shoes off and pushed them into the closet.

“Good boy.” Looking up, Stephen spotted Karolina starting to set up the dinner table. His smile fell slightly, and he cleared his throat.

“Karol?”

Karolina paused, tensing slightly when she realized she had been ignoring Stephen. She pushed strands of thick brown hair out of her face and tried to smile as convincingly as possible. “Hello, Stephen.” He strode towards her and pecked her on the cheek, resting both hands on her arms. “I was so busy with dinner I didn’t respond--.”

“Yeah,” said Stephen with a smirk. “I know.” He smiled, but Karolina caught the tone in his voice. She tried to keep herself poised and calm as Stephen walked towards her, still smiling. Stephen looked down at her, wrapping his arms around her and grinning. “You get too distracted sometimes.”

Karolina managed a smile, and a little _huff_ of a fake laugh, before turning her attention back to Frederick, who looked visibly disgusted at his parents kissing.

“Honey, don’t go anywhere okay?” She paused, looking back up at her husband. The fake, toothy smile was back. “Dinner’s ready”.

 

Frederick watched eagerly as dinner was set out on the table: mashed potatoes, gravy, and chicken. And carrots, of course, which his mother put on his plate without asking even though she knew he didn’t like them even a little bit. He wanted to scrunch up his face in obvious disgust, but he saw his father eyeing him – or was it his mother – rather intensely. He didn’t want to ruin daddy’s good mood, so he kept his mouth quiet.

After grace, Frederick was bouncing in his seat eagerly, watching as his mother filled his plate. His eyes darted occasionally to his father, who was also watching intently the food being deposited onto his plate. Frederick wasn’t too worried though, his dad was in a good mood. Nothing to be worried about.

Karolina didn’t dare touch her food right away. She watched as Stephen began tentatively chewing on a piece of chicken.

Silence. Karolina kept watching. Frederick noticed the silence and also paused to watch.

The silence continued, almost agonizingly, until Stephen smiled and nodded.

“Delicious,” he said, before going back for more. Karolina breathed a sigh of relief, and Frederick followed.

Everything went on normally – nearly all the food was eaten, everyone asked how their days had been, and the dishes were cleaned in no time. Because Frederick had been so good and eaten everything on his plate, he was even rewarded with a cookie for dessert.

Everything was calm. Everything was fine. Frederick was ready to take a bite out of his cookie.

Then he heard the cry.

“Son of a BITCH!”

Both Frederick and karoKaro froze, the plate that Karolina was washing falling out of her hands into the sink. Their heads turned slowly towards the sound of Stephen, neither of them wanting to know what elicited such a reaction from him.

They didn’t have to wonder long. He came marching around the corner, hands behind his back. His face looked calm and even, and for a moment Frederick hoped that his father was okay, that everything was going to be okay, but Karolina knew. She moved back, trying to block the doorway between the kitchen and where her son sat in the living room. Frederick could see from under her arm Stephen pull something from behind his back, and when he saw what it was his blood ran _cold._

“What is this?”

Frederick’s heart immediately began to race as Stephen held up in his hand one of his precious toy soldiers. Tears began to sting Frederick’s eyes almost immediately – _I put them all away, I know I did! I know I did!_ he cried internally. It never crossed his mind in his panic that me may have missed one of the ones that fell as he trotted to his room earlier. Daddy had been so happy, he’d been in such a good mood and now it was ruined, now he was going to start—

“Well?” Stephen’s glare bore into Frederick’s skull. Frederick opened his mouth to apologize, but Stephen’s head snapped over to glare at Karolina. “Karolina? What is this?!”

“Please don’t,” replied Karolina, surprising herself with how measured she sounded. Her eyes locked with Stephen. “Don’t be angry at Freddy, he probably just dropped it or something--.”

“I’m not yelling at him, I’m askin’ you! What the hell is this?! You too busy working in the god damn kitchen you forget about the rest of the house?!”

“Don’t use that language—”

“Don’t FUCKING tell me what do in MY GOD DAMN HOUSE! Alright?!”

Karolina jumped in her seat, immediately dropping her gaze. Frederick could only watch his mother in horror, shaking in his seat and feeling hot tears burn his skin. Half of him wanted to run away to hide in his room, but he was too afraid of making his father even angrier.

Stephen’s nostrils flared, and his grip tightened on the soldier as he closed the space between him and his wife, step by step. Eventually, he leaned down to her level, their eyes inches apart. Karolina found some strength within her to tilt her head up and look back at her husband, as calmly as she could.

“You got no answer, do you?”

She knew what was coming. Saw it from a mile away. Karolina kept her eyes locked onto her husband. “I simply forgot to check the hallway,” she said in a strained voice. Stephen nodded his head, smirking.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

_SMACK_

Immediately everything began moving too fast for Frederick’s brain to process. After Stephen smacked Karolina in the face, he took a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back so she was forced to look at him. Karolina fought to keep the tears from pouring but the pain was getting to her too much. Stephen’s nails dug into her scalp as he pulled her closer to his face, and she could feel tears starting to sting her eyes and burn her cheeks. Stephen continued to glare at her, huffing as his face turned bright red. His breath reeked of alcohol.

“Fuckin’ teach you to talk back to me.”

Karolina doubled over and whimpered as Stephen punched her in the stomach. She wanted to crumple up in a ball as the pain surged through her, but Stephen kept a good firm grip on her hair, almost holding her off the ground. Frederick screamed.

“Daddy stop it! Stop hurting mommy!”

He recoiled in his seat as Stephen’s head snapped back in his direction. He strode towards him, dragging Karolina along with him as she desperately tried to claw at his fist.

“You,” he growled as he grew closer and closer. Frederick felt a sharp pain in his head as his father grabbed his hair and started to drag him away, along with his mother.

“Stephen—Stephen stop it! Stop it, don’t hurt Frederick!”

No response. The carpet burned Frederick’s bare knees and legs. His feet hit the coffee table legs as he continued to be dragged, and at this point Frederick knew where.

The closet.

It had only happened a few times, but he already knew – this was his “time-out” room, the shoe closet by the front door. He’d get thrown in there and his father would block the doors of by shoving the heavy potted plant in front of them, leaving Frederick to sob in the dark for hours on end while he listened to his parents fight again. He began to scream more hysterically at this realization.

“No! No, no, no, no, daddy please! Please don’t, I’m sorry! I’m sorry daddy, I didn’t mean to—!”

Stephen pried the ajar door open with his foot, and before Frederick could take in these last few moments of light, he was hurdled into the dark, cramped space. He hit the wall with a sharp, sickening _thud_.

“I better not hear any fucking noise out of you, got it? Else you’re comin’ back out and getting a proper beating. Understand?!”

Frederick nodded wordlessly. He was screaming inside, begging his father to stop being so angry, but he couldn’t find his voice. Not now, not while his head was still pounding from pain, while his mother looked back at him with a pleading look in her eyes, begging him to comply. He looked back at his father’s face, red with rage. Frederick bowed his head and let a quiet, “yes sir” escape his lips.

And with that, the door slammed in front of him.

The only source of light came from the small crack between the floor and the door, but that didn’t help illuminate the tiny room at all. Outside, he could hear more yelling, getting indistinct as Stephen went from the living room to the kitchen. Dull thuds could be heard, from a body slamming into a wall and from a fist hitting a body. He wanted to scream and pound on the closet door, to try desperately and escape, but flashbacks from the last time this happened taught him to sit still. Frederick’s stomach churned painfully now, and he was almost sure he would vomit on himself in the cramped space.

The shouting and thudding continued, and all Frederick could do was curl up into a ball, cry, and blame himself.

 

Three hours passed since Frederick was confined to the closet. By that point his cheeks were raw and wet from the tears. His back and legs hurt from the fetal position he had taken up, and his jeans were soiled, but he didn’t want to move. He was scared to move.

Finally, the door opened. The light from the living room almost blinded Frederick, making him curl up into a ball again.

“Frederick, come on out.”

His mother spoke hoarsely. Frederick looked back up at her, squinting but able to see her red, puffy eye and some very ugly red marks on her upper arms. The sight alone made him want to scream again, but his voice was too hoarse from sobbing. He stood up, shaking, expecting to be picked up, but Karolina simply took his hand and walked him to the bathroom. As they walked past the living room, he could see his father, staring blankly at the television, almost like he was dead. Two beer bottles sat beside his armchair, completely empty. Frederick tried his best to hide behind his mother.

Neither of them spoke as Karolina helped Frederick clean up and get ready for bed. He silently glanced over all the marks on her arms and face. Her hair was still mussed up from where she had been dragged. Frederick could see the marks on her legs from where she was dragged on the carpet. He wanted to cry, he felt like crying, but he had used up all his tears in his time in the closet.

“I’m sorry, mommy.”

Karolina looked at her son, looking like she wanted to cry herself, but she kept it in. She stroked his blond hair and chubby cheeks, looking into his sad teal eyes with what she hoped was a comforting look.

“It was an accident, Frederick,” she said. Teal eyes stared back at her in pain. She kept herself from shaking too much. “Please don’t blame yourself.” He kept silent.

“Okay?”

More silence. Finally, Frederick dropped his gaze, looking down at his shoes. “Okay mommy.” Karolina smiled as best she could and kissed his forehead.

“No matter what happens… you know I love you Freddy. Right?”

Frederick smiled at his mother. “Love you too, mommy.”

 

The rest of their routine was done in silence. As she entered Frederick’s bedroom, she kicked away the toy soldiers that were scattered around the floor like landmines, and immediately Frederick began to feel guilty again. He was clothed and tucked in without a word – just his mother watching him, looking worried as ever but trying to keep her emotions in check. Karolina kissed him good night, and strode out of the room, closing the door as silently and gently as possible.

Frederick curled up under the covers, pulling them over his head as he waited. Waited for another outburst, for more yelling, for more thudding. Guilt and worry and sadness and anger were swirling in his head, creating an ugly feeling overall that made his stomach churn again. He kicked himself mentally, over and over again – he was careless, he was stupid, he should have known better, he shouldn’t have made his daddy mad, he should’ve picked up all his toys….”

The image of Stephen holding the soldier kept coming back to him and his anger kept rising. He felt like crying, screaming, punching something, throwing something—

It was anger controlling him now. It filled him, made his hands clench into fists and shake, made his face feel hot and his mouth dry. He didn’t even think of what would happen if his father caught him, the anger had taken over his mind.

Grabbing the soldier closest to him, he gripped in his hands and glared. Glared like his anger could set it on fire. He gripped it so tight the toy gun it was holding started to poke his hand. When his grip didn’t break it, he finally lobbed it at the wall, letting out a grunt.

The toy sailed across the room, hitting the wall with a sharp _plink_ , then falling pathetically onto the blankets. As the throw was completed, Frederick felt the anger practically melt away. Some sense or reason came back to his young brain, and his anger was replaced with panic and fear, both of this father coming back and the poor soldier being “injured”.

“No…. no, no, no, no, no,” he whimpered, his hands almost flailing in panic as he glanced to his right, towards the living room. When he didn’t hear the sound of charging footsteps, he rushed over to his bed, cradling the soldier in his arms. It wasn’t injured – it still looked as stoic and confident as ever – but even still, guilt gripped Frederick. Little droplets fell onto the soldier’s face as Frederick began to sob again. “I’m sorry,” he said to his soldier between sobs. He fell back on the bed into a little ball and sobbed, clutching the toy close to his chest protectively. “I’m sorry…. I didn’t mean to hurt you…. I’m so sorry…..”

Frederick curled up, shivering from the cold night air, and sobbed himself to sleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you didn't feel comfortable reading this chapter, essentially what happened was we learned that Arthur's father is physically abusive towards his wife, and to a degree his son as well. Also, we start to see some aggressive behavior from Arthur, though at this point he's still a kind, sweet, nervous 4-year old boy.
> 
> To be honest I'm so glad to finally have this chapter out of the way - next chapter I can finally write about Frederick's friend (my OC), and I don't have to focus too much on the serious stuff). I'm not 100% about this chapter but I'm glad it's out of the way and I can start writing the scenes I'm really looking forward too.


End file.
